Diagnosis: Fear
by Ryan Buck
Summary: An anthology comic of suspense and horror hosted by Doc Terror, Revolutionary Psychotherapist! The first three stories introduce the character of Doc Terror detailing his initial foray into the world of unsolicited behavior modification.
1. Chapter 1

Tough Comics #8 MAR 1938

Title: "Terror Strikes at Night!"

Page 1:

Panel 1:

Under the title letters which should look wicked and menacing, Tom Jefferson, the Daring Detective, is slugging it out with four thugs on a pier, mid-ground. In the foreground are three large crates with poison labels emblazoned on them. One of the crates is cracked and leaking powder into the water below the pier. In the background looms a water front warehouse. Above all is the ghostly image of a Grim Reaper-like face; this is Doc Terror.

Caption:

Can our intrepid hero for justice out wit the diabolical machinations of the city's newest and deadliest threat? Will he solve all the clues in time to prevent the deadly crime you see here? Read on, good friend, and pit your own sleuthing mind against that of the Daring Detective as he tackles his toughest case yet!

Page 2:

Panel 1:

Tom Jefferson, slouches at his desk, reviewing some paperwork. He looks grumpy.

Caption:

At the 7th precinct, we find our Daring Detective hard at work finishing up another case.

Tom:

This blasted paperwork never ends.

Panel 2:

A wide shot of the precinct office. Tom is in the fore ground, his back to us. In the mid ground other police detectives mill about. Lt. Rick Reynolds approaches Tom from the background; he looks upset and is waving a sheaf of papers in his hands which spill out about him.

Rick:

You call this a report?! Why I wouldn't hand this in to my kids third grade english teacher!

Panel 3:

Side shot of Rick leaning over Tom's desk, his chin jutting menacingly toward our Daring Detective. Tom looks bored and unperturbed.

Rick:

What's the matter with you Tom? Didn't you ever learn the difference between a preposition and an adjective? I know paperwork isn't the most exciting part of being a cop, but it's still important!

Panel 4:

Close up of Tom, smiling wide and appeasingly.

Tom:

Sorry Lieutenant, I guess I got a little rushed trying to wrap up the files on my backlog. You know I've never been that great at grammar.

Panel 5:

In the foreground, Tom; with his back to us. Rick, standing with his hands on his hips, scowling.

Rick:

Look, Tom, I don't want to be the bad guy here, but you have to pay more attention to your paper work. You don't want all that hard work you do catching crooks to be thrown out when they go to court do you?

Tom:

No, sir.

Panel 6:

Side shot of Rick stalking away from Tom's desk, still huffy. Tom looks a little brow beaten. The papers on Tom's desk cascade down to the floor.

Rick:

Well, then re-write these reports and make sure you check them with Phyllis before you hand them in next time. Take the rest of the night off and don't come back till you catch up on your backlog! Hey Peterson, I got a beef with you to...

Page 3:

Panel 1:

Wide shot of the city streets. It's night and people make their ways about, some heading home with their children others looking geared up for a night on the town.

Caption:

Later, as the bustle of the vibrant city prepares for another evening. Tom Jefferson makes his way home, his thoughts as cloudy as the night.

Panel 2:

Side view, close up of Tom, hunkered down into his trench coat. His expression is glum.

Tom (thinking):

What a balling out that was. It's not like I haven't been doing a good job, but the Old man sure laid into me tonight. I wonder if he's still worried about that threat the Black Cape made last week?

Panel 3:

Wide shot of Tom walking past a subway entrance. People make their way up and down the stairs.

Tom (thinking):

Naw, couldn't be that. The Cape's been locked up since Monday and with all the evidence against him, no jury in the world wouldn't indite him. Wonder what it is that has him so worked up?

Panel 4:

In the foreground Tom, his back to us, is walking down an empty section of street with warehouses on either side.

Tom (thinking):

He's wound tighter than my grandpa's pocket watch. He's gonna wind up in the hospital if he doesn't take it easy.

Panel 5:

Close up of Tom, looking up from his coat; surprised and inquisitive.

SFX: Thud! Crash!

Tom (thinking):

What was that?

Panel 6:

Tom, in the foreground, drawing his revolver from the inside pocket of his coat. Empty and dark warehouses loom in the background. A low fog permeates.

Tom (thinking):

Better check it out.

Panel 7:

Tom, in the foreground, his back to us, holds up his revolver with both hands as he peers around the corner of a warehouse. The background is shrouded in fog, but two silhouettes can just barely be made out.

Tom (thinking):

Can't see a thing in this pea soup. I'm gonna have to get closer. But I gotta be careful. Don't want anyone to get the drop on me.

Page 4:

Panel 1:

In the foreground, two thuggish looking men stand over a crate that has been smashed open. One is scratching his head the other points to the broken crate. Amidst the debris are large black canisters with skulls emblazoned on them. In the far background behind some more crates Tom Jefferson's head peeks out, observing.

Thug 1:

Man the boss is sure gonna be mad about this.

Thug 2:

Not if he don't find out about it he wont. Get to cleanin' up this mess and he wont be none the wiser.

Panel 2:

Full shot of Tom creeping slowly forward, over crates. His gun is at the ready in case of trouble.

Caption:

Inching slowly forward the Daring Detective steels himself for confrontation.

Tom (thinking):

These characters better have a good reason for working so late. But by the look of those canisters something tells me they wont be nice reasons.

Panel 3:

Wide shot; In the foreground the two thugs busy themselves picking up the menacing looking canisters. They are turned to look behind at Tom, who is in the background gun pointed at them.

Tom:

All right fellas, just put those down nice and slowly.

Thugs (in unison):

The coppers!

Panel 4:

Full shot; the thugs in a cloud of smoke, guns blazing.

Caption:

In the blink of an eye the dastardly thugs open fire on our brave upholder of law.

Panel 5:

Mid shot; A determined, yet clam looking Tom Jefferson returns shots from his own revolver as bullets whiz past him.

Tom:

So you like to play rough do you?

Panel 6:

Close up; One of the thugs doubled over in pain, he's been shot in the belly. His gun hangs loosely in his hand.

Thug:

Ugh! He got me Willy, I'm done for!

Panel 7:

Full shot; In the foreground, their backs to us, "Willy" the thug holds his dying buddy in his arms and looks up toward Tom. Tom approaches gun still pointed forward and at the ready. His eyes are slits of caution.

Willy:

All right copper, I give in. This racket ain't worth dyin' ova.

Tom:

Smart choice. To bad your pal there didn't have your brains.

Page 5:

Panel 1:

Wide shot; In foreground three uniformed cops carry the black canisters, we see them from the waist up. In the mid ground between the images of the cops in the foreground, Tom stands talking to another uniformed officer as Willy the thug is helped into a paddy wagon.

Caption:

Once his fellow officers arrive, they make short work of confiscating the deadly canisters.

Tom:

I don't know whats in those things so make sure your men handle them with extra care.

Panel 2:

Tom,in profile is holding a telephone receiver up to his ear and talking. His hat is cocked back jauntily, and his feet rest on his desk.

Caption:

Later, at the station house...

Tom:

Yeah that's right, about thirteen of 'em. All black with skulls on 'em. We can't see how they open. I was wonderin' if you might take a look at them. You will? Thanks, I'd really appreciate it.

Panel 3:

In the foreground, Tom, seated, his back to us, hangs up the telephone. Standing to the right of his desk is Rick Reynolds, vision of comically contained rage; red face, smoke pouring from ears, eyes slits, that kind of thing.

Rick:

Didn't I tell you I didn't want to see you back here till you fixed those reports? You better have something awful important in the works or else I might just have to get mad at you Tom Jefferson!

Panel 4:

Side shot; Tom; standing, fist on desk, he bends fiercely toward Rick who is bent backwards slightly in avoidance of Tom's aggressive psoture.

Tom:

Lieutenant will you get off my case for once and let me do my job?! I just brought in a guy who might've been trying to poison the whole bay area water supply! And if you don't mind I'd like to question him about it!

Rick:

(GULP) Well get to it then.

Panel 5:

In the foreground is Willy, his back to us in shadowed silhouette, the mid ground is all smoke and a glaring light hanging from top of panel. In the background, amidst more swirling smoke and shadow is Tom, who stands with his arms crossed. Tom, looks slightly menacing.

Willy:

I tell ya that's all I know. It was Sal who made all the contacts, I was just muscle for the job. I knew the boss's name and where to make the pick ups, that was all. Doc Terror was what Sal called him. Honest.

Tom:

You better be playing square with me Willy, or else...

Panel 6:

Side shot of Tom grabbing his coat quickly from a coat rack. A uniformed officer looks on, surprised and a little intimidated.

Tom:

If the Lieutenant asks where I am, tell him I went out to do some REAL police work! I'll be at the waterfront checking up on somethings!

Officer: S-sure thing.

Page 6:

Panel 1:

Wide shot; Tom,in the foreground, stands, hands in pocket, lightly kicking at some broken timbers on the ground. In the back ground are towers of wooden crates and the rafters of a waterfront warehouse.

Tom (thinking):

Well, I guess it was a bum hunch to come back here looking for clues. I bet that Willy knows more than he's telling.

Panel 2:

In the foreground, Tom hunkers down behind some wooden crates, peering toward mid-ground, where sits a canvas-backed brown truck. Three shady looking men unload crates from the open flap of the truck.

Tom (thinking):

Well, I'll be. Willy was telling the truth after all.

Panel 3:

Close up of the shady men unloading crates from the truck.

Shady 1:

Those mugs never got in touch with the boss about last night's shipment. You think something's up?

Shady 2:

It ain't our job to think, we just do what the boss tells us.

Shady 3:

Yeah, 'member what happened to the last guy that didn't do what the Doc said?

Panel 4:

Close up of Tom, excited and intrigued.

Tom (thinking):

So there is a Big Boss after all? I gotta find out more about this mysterious "Doc".

Panel 5:

Wide shot of the truck and shady men. Two men on the ground, wiping their brows. One in the back of the truck peering down at them.

Shady 1:

That's the last of them.

Shady 2:

Good, let's get outta here. If there is something up, I don't want to be here when it comes down.

Panel 6:

The truck is pulling out and away from us. On the back, huddled down low on the bumper, and holding on tightly is Tom Jefferson.

Tom (thinking):

Gotta follow these guys and see where the trail ends up. Hope they don't break any speed limits.

Page 7:

Panel 1:

Wide shot; A tall apartment building on the swanky side of town. The building stretches up into the night. In the lower foreground are expensive looking Coup's and Roadsters.

Caption:

A short time later, the Daring Detective finds his destination the most unlikely of places.

Panel 2:

In the foreground, Tom jumps from the back of the truck as it continues down a dark alleyway.

Tom (thinking):

I should probably find myself a better vantage point. Don't want to tip these fellas off just yet.

Panel 3:

Wide shot; Foreground; the three men load more crates into the back half of the truck. A tall black cloaked figure,Doc Terror, his back to us, stands overseeing them. Background; Tom peeks out from behind a pile of garbage.

Doc Terror:

Hurry with those deliveries! We are nearly four hours behind schedule because of those absent miscreants.

Tom (thinking):

That's him! It's gotta be Doc Terror. Just look at that get up!

Panel 4:

Background; Tom springing from cover, gun drawn. Foreground; Doc Terror, turned toward us, we see he is wearing a skull face mask, he his pointing toward Tom.

Tom:

The jigs up "Doc"! Time for you and your playmates to come nice and easy!

Doc Terror:

Get him you louts!

Panel 5:

Tom swaps shots with the three thugs amidst smoke and shadows.

Panel 6:

Tom swings a vicious punch at one of the crooks jaw. The other two thugs are doubled over at his feet.

Tom (thinking):

That takes care of the last one! Now for the ringmaster of this criminal circus!

Panel 7:

The tuck speeding past. At the wheel, Doc Terror, skull face grinning devilishly, black robes flapping.

Doc Terror:

HAHAHAHAHAHA!

Page 8:

Panel 1:

Close up of Tom taking aim with his revolver.

Tom (thinking):

You wont get away that easy!

Panel 2:

Wide shot; Foreground; Tom, his back to us, firing his revolver. Background; The truck zooming away, it's tires blowing out from Tom's bullets.

Tom:

Let's see how far you get now, you crackpot!

Panel 3:

Close up of Doc Terror, inside the cab of the truck struggling to turn the wheel.

Doc Terror:

What have you done you interloper!

Panel 4:

The truck crashing into a group of expensive looking Roadsters. Flame billows from the engine.

Panel 5:

The truck explodes.

Panel 6:

Wide shot; Foreground;Tom stands holding a tattered black cape and skull mask. At his left is the Fire Chief. Back ground; Firemen are fighting the blaze caused by the explosion.

Caption:

Minutes later...

Tom:

And this is all that I could find of him. Looks like I've still got some work to do.

Panel 7:

Tom sitting at his desk, feet propped up, hat cocked back. Rick Reynolds stands leaning on his desk. Both look grumpy.

Rick:

The science boys finally cracked those canisters. They say there was some kind of poison they'd never seen before inside.

Tom:

I'm sure this isn't the last we've seen of Doc Terror. I'll get him next time, sir.

THE END.


	2. Chapter 2

Top Cop Comics #12 SEP 1938

Title: "The Reign of Doc Terror!"

Page 1:

Panel 1:

Dominating the foreground, on the left, is the cloaked figure of Doc Terror. His cape billows out like streaming tentacles towards the background, where Tom Jefferson is strapped to an upright table. Tom is writhing in agony. Covering Tom's arms and bare chest are electrodes. Wires extend from the electrodes to a giant machine in the background, covered with dials and tubes. Electricity passes along the wires. At the bottom of the page, under the caption, is the title written in "electric" type.

Caption:

This scene may be too shocking for some of our readers with low constitutions. But if you can stomach to watch, follow along as Tom Jefferson, the Daring Detective faces his most deadly challenge to date. And see how he brings the deadly mastermind to justice in...{Title}

Page 2:

Panel 1:

Wide shot; Foreground; five huddled thugs , wearing trench-coats hide behind garbage cans. They are firing towards the background from cover. Mid- ground; billowing clouds of smoke. Background; three uniformed cops and Tom Jefferson rush toward the foreground, guns blazing.

Caption:

In our last story, Detective Tom Jefferson had cracked the "Case of the Silver Pen" and was in the process of mopping up the O'Malley Mob.

Tom:

C'mon men, these mugs ain't so tough!

Panel 2:

Side shot; Foreground; One thug looking at back ground, frightened. Background; Two thugs doubling over from bullet wounds in the belly.

Thug 1:

Nuts! Freddy and Joe Got it! All right coppers I surrender!"

Panel 3:

Foreground; Tom Jefferson prodding the dead body of a thug with his foot. He is in the process of cocking back his hat. His expression is dour. Next to him stands a uniformed policeman, looking on. Background; the remaining two policemen stand in front of the last thug, holding guns on him. The thug has his hands in the air, he looks scared.

Tom:

I guess that does it for the O'Malley Mob. But I still never found out who these crooks were in cahoots with.

Panel 4:

Side shot; Tom sitting at his desk looking up at Lt. Rick Reynolds. Tom appears nonchalant and relaxed. Rick is bent forward leaning his knuckles on Tom's desk. His face is red and consternated.

Rick:

So you think that does it do you? You just bring crooks in while the rest of us do all the paperwork? Well if I've told you once I've told you a hundred times there's more to police work than just shooting at criminals...

Tom:

Relax boss, I've already got my reports started. I just have to interview the last of the O'Malley Mob and then I'll be all done.

Panel 5:

Foreground; Tom, his back to us, sits at his desk looking toward background. Background; Rick, walking away from Tom's desk, holding his right hand up and swirling his index finger in the air, paper trailing after him.

Rick:

You better hope so, Jefferson! Or else it'll cost ya two weeks pay and lunch for the station house!

Page 3:

Panel 1:

Wide shot; Tom sits across a table from the captured thug. Tom looks at some paperwork. the thug looks nervous and fidgety. A single light bulb with no cover hangs above the center of the table. Shadows crawl on the wall in the background.

Tom:

Things don't look so good for you Jimmy. With your rap sheet the judge isn't likely to take it easy on you. Maybe if you had something I could use to soften him up with?

Panel 2:

Jimmy, a typical looking dock-rat; sweating bullets. He wrings his hat nervously.

Jimmy:

I told youse coppers that I was just in da wrong place at da wrong time. I don't know nothing 'bout no dope ring. Honest.

Panel 3:

Tom leaning back in his chair, hands behind his head. He looks bored.

Tom:

You want me to ask Officer Chino to step in? I know you and he are ol' pals. Maybe you'd tell him what you can't tell me.

Panel 4:

Side shot; Jimmy, looking down at his hat, defeatedly. Tom leaning in, very interested.

Jimmy:

N-no, no. That ain't necessary. I'll tell ya what I know. I'm just a hired gun ya see. That's the truth. I was just there cause a Joey. He got me the job. I didn't know nothing about no dope til youse guys told me, honest. The only other thing I know is there was this funny looking guy handing out business cards to all a us before the caper. I didn't think nothin of it. I thought he was just a hustler, but Big Man O'Malley seemed scared a him.

Panel 5:

Close up of Tom's hand, holding a business card. On it in the upper left hand corner is a skull chomping a bullet between it's teeth. There is fancy feminine writing below and center.

Card Script:

Dr. T. R. 999 Forsigthe Ave. Rm. 13. Call for Appointments. Bellwater 462.

Jimmy (of panel):

Here's what he give me.

Panel 6:

Wide shot; Foreground; Tom shrugging on his coat and donning his hat. He is walking quickly. Back ground; A desk sergeant looks up surprised. Papers from his desk scatter behind Tom to the floor.

Tom:

If the Lieutenant asks where I am. Tell him I've got a lead on that dope ring. It's the Ritz!

Page 4:

Panel 1:

Wide shot; Foreground; A black sedan cab parked on the left. Mid-ground; Tom leaning against the passenger side window-sill. He is tipping his hat back nonchalantly. Background; The bottom 12 stories of a high rise, ritzy Park Place apartment building. It is night and street lamps are lit.

Tom:

Thanks again buddy. I owe ya one. Stop down at the station anytime and I'll see if I can't help you out.

Panel 2:

Mid side shot; Tom looking down at the card he holds chest high. His face a chiseled mask of determination.

Tom (thinking):

If my hunch is right I should probably just go in guns blazing. But everybody's got the right to a fair trial, so...

Panel 3:

Mid front on shot; Tom standing in an elevator. His hands in his pockets, His hat tilted forward to hide his face. A squirrelly looking bellhop pulls the ascension lever. He looks thoroughly bored with his station in life.

Tom (thinking):

Its got to be him! Its just got to!

Panel 4:

Wide shot; Foreground; Mid shot of Tom stepping off the elevator. Mid-ground; Opposite him is a particularly nasty looking thug wearing spats. "Spats" is looking toward Tom, his expression unfriendly.

Tom (thinking):

He's got muscle. I'll just go say hello.

Panel 5:

Mid side shot; Tom standing opposite "Spats". Tom's hat is pulled low to hide his face. He holds out his hand with the small white card. "Spats" puts out a stopping hand level with Tom's chest. He wave's his hand back and forth.

Spats:

Eh, you look lost mista. You musta got the wrong door. Try lookin' elsewheres.

Tom:

I have this card.

Panel 6:

Wide shot; Tom and Spats entering a large, poshly decorated apartment. The rooms dominate feature are the numerous bookshelves.

Spats:

You must be the guy Doc's waitin' for? C'mon in and well take care a ya.

Panel 7:

Mid side shot; Spats saps Tom Jefferson from behind. Tom surprised by the blow is doubled forward. Spats' is smiling.

Spats:

I know the Doc'll be happy you stopped by.

Page 5:

Panel 1:

Foreground; Tom, his back to us, is strapped to a chair. He is in shadow. His head lolls over to his right shoulder. His hair is messed and fallen forward, overall his clothes look disheveled. Background; All is in shadow except for one bright spotlight the illuminates Spats, standing, wearing his jacket and hat, arms crossed. A cigar sticks sidewise out of his mouth. The cigar is unlit.

Spats:

You ain't said much worth listen' to so far copper.

Panel 2:

Mid shot; Spats rolling up the sleeves of his white shirt. His coat hangs on a rack behind him. He wears a vest, tie and pocket watch. His face is unemotional, but unfriendly.

Spats:

Guess you're gonna make me take my coat off for this one, eh?

Panel 3:

Foreground; Tom, leaning forward, towards us, in pain. Behind him Spats is following through on a punch to the back of Tom's head, a large sap in his hand. Background; Explodes in 'slam-bang' lines.

Spats:

You remember my ol' pal Beanie here?

Panel 4:

Small, thin, all black.

Panel 5:

Slightly larger than previous panel, all black.

Panel 6:

Larger than previous panel, right side spottily fading to gray.

Panel 7:

Buts the edge of previous panel, Left side is spottily gray fading smoothly to; Close up of Spats' face. This shot is from Tom's P.O.V., Spats is looking up and away to the left (behind us), His mouth is opened as if speaking.

Spats:

He's come back around Doc. Want I should toss some water on 'im?

Panel 8:

Wide shot: Foreground; Silhouette of Doc Terror viewed from the back, on the left side, his left hand fiddles with silhouetted turn dials on silhouetted machinery. Back ground; Spats leans over a table, waist high, center. He looks down at Tom Jefferson, who is bare chested and strapped to the table by buckled leather straps. Tom faces the silhouette of Doc Terror, his face stony and determined.

Doc Terror:

I think the stoic Republican is coming around quite nicely on his own.

Panel 9:

Close up of Doc Terror's hooded face. A floating skeletal head in a field of flowing black robes. The skull looks particularly menacing.

Doc Terror:

Tell me Tom, why is it do you think I've brought you here? What does that brawny brain of yours tell you is happening? Let me assure you though, that nothing you can be thinking now is remotely near what the actuality of this moment is.

Page 6:

Panel 1:

Wide shot; Foreground; Left side; The table, tilted at a 45 degree angle, viewed from behind it is in shadow. Tom's buckled hands are visible at the top of each corner of the table, also in shadow. Doc Terror, in rear silhouette, stands next to him, a black gloved hand pointing toward the screen. Right side; A giant cinema screen dominates the upper portion of the panel, On the screen is a newsreel image of piles of decrepit looking skulls. The lower portion under the screen is a strange machine with numerous diodes, levers and dials. Spats, his back to us, is manipulating some of the knobs and buttons.

Doc Terror:

Not when you face "Les Cinema de Terreur! Put the mask on him.

Panel 2:

Side shot; Foreground; Waist up shot of bare chested Tom strapped to the 45 degree angled table. Covering his head is a Great War gas mask. Fumes billow out of it. On Tom's chest are electrodes connected to wires that run off the table. Background; The dark form of Doc Terror blends in with the shadows around him, a few folds of his robes and his skull face can be seen.

Doc Terror:

That gas is a little experiment I've been working on. It should make all that you are about to see quite interesting.

Panel 3:

Mid-shot; Mid-ground; Tom, face on, bathed in light from the foreground, He is bare to the waist. His hands are shackled above him to the table, struggling. A Great war gas mask covers his face. Background; Very small in the black background is the grinning skeletal face of Doc Terror.

Caption:

As the images, much to heinous to show you, flicker by on the terrible screen, Tom tries to shut his eyes, behind the mask. But the gas makes him want to watch, the terrible gas that makes all the horrible images before him seem more real than anything he's ever seen before!

Panel 4:

Close up of he gas mask. A reflection of flames can be seen in the eye-pieces. Vapors escaping from the venting.

Tom:

Must fight it...mustn't give in to...

Page 7:

Panel 1:

Wide shot; Mid-ground; Tom in coat and hat stumbling forward, his hand held out as if reaching for something. Back ground; A hypnotic background of swirling images and floating objects.

Caption:

Tom finds himself in a world gone topsy turvy. He doesn't know if he's dreaming or if any of this is the real world. He wanders in this foreign landscape for what seem like hours until...

Panel 2:

Foreground; Tom being supported by two uniformed police men. The men look confused. The police men are walking, Tom is being dragged between them. Background; The left side is 'topsy-turvy" world that at center blends in with the "real" world of a street with a car driving past and a lamp post, that fills in the right side.

Cop 1:

Yeah but I haven't ever seen him like this before.

Cop 2:

Maybe we oughta bring him to the station house?

Panel 3:

Tom, disheveled, hunched and gripping a glass of water, sits at his desk. Lt. Rick Reynolds stands next to his desk, knuckles pressed against the top.

Rick:

You took a nasty blow there Tom. The Doc says you'll pull through okay though.

Tom:

T...the D..doc?

Panel 4:

Tom gripping Rick by the lapels of his shirt, thrusting his face toward Rick's.

Tom:

We've got to get back there! Before he gets away, we've got to get back!

Panel 5:

Foreground; Tom and a Rick inside a police sedan. The sedan's siren and lights are flashing! Background; the streets zoom by in blurs.

Caption:

Explaining about the gas, Tom convinces Lt. Rick Reynolds to take him back to 999 Farsigthe, the home of Doc Terror!

Panel 6:

Tom and Rick standing on either side of the bellhop from earlier. The bellhop looks confused and slightly frightened.

Billy Bellhop:

Sorry Mista, I just don't remember. Ridin' up an down all day kinda rattles ya after a while.

Tom:

I know it's here, just take us up.

Page 8:

Panel 1:

Foreground; Empty apartment walls, shadows everywhere. Mid-ground; in the center of the bare floor is a scrap of paper, to far away to read. Background; Tom kicking open the door, Rick behind him gun drawn.

Caption:

No guards out front! No one answering the doorbell! Tom leaps into action!

Panel 2:

Wide shot; Tom stands center looking at the scrap of paper he's picked up, Rick, paces scratching his head, gun on his hip. shattered door lies to the right. Billy Bellhop peeks in through doorway, looks perplexed.

Tom:

I knew this was the place, this card proves it!

Rick:

What I can't figure is how they got all their stuff outta here so fast?

Billy:

Mr. Donnielli is gonna be mad at you guys for this.

Panel 3:

Tom sitting at his desk; feet propped up, his hat knocked back, he holds the card on his chest studying it. Rick stands; next to Tom's desk, arms crossed, his expression dour.

Rick:

Well we've got our work cut out for us on this one. Not a clue except that scrap you found. This guy is pretty slippery.

Panel 4:

Foreground; Tom, his back to us, in silhouette leans against a large window frame (possibly panel frame?). Background; Out beyond the window is the night and the city.

Tom:

Slippery or not, I'll get him. Whatever mad scheme he may have planned, I'll track him down and put a stop to it! I swear!

Panel 5:

Wide shot; An expansive rooftop view of the city at night. Between a gap in the peaks of skyscrapers, the moon and a ghastly cloud crossing in front of it, resembling a skull.

Caption:

This is not the end of our tale. Join us next time for the thrilling conclusion to Tom Jefferson's hardest fight! "The Reign of Doc Terror, Part Two!"

THE END.


	3. Chapter 3

Top Cop Comics #13 OCT 1938

Title: "The Reign of Doc Terror! Part Two"

Page 1:

Panel 1:

Foreground; On the extreme left and right are numerous silhouettes of cloaked figures. Mid-ground; Sally Hemmings, an attractive dark haired young woman, her hands up to her temples, she grips a hand kerchief. She is in obvious despair and looks at the silhouettes in front of her with a terrified gaze. Background; More cloaked figures, we can see their faces, all wear skull head masks. The remaining is all dark shadows that flow up into a hazy image of Doc Terror's face and looming black hands above everything.

Caption:

Sally Hemmings had no idea why she was suddenly seeing this grim visage everywhere she turned. She had no idea of the diabolical machinations of her terrifying tormentor. All she had was the help of one man, Tom Jefferson, the Daring Detective!

Panel 2:

Foreground; Mid-profile; Sally Hemmings nervous, timid, looking forward in fear. She tightly grips the handle of her handbag. Background; A line of "normal" looking folks stream past.

Caption:

Another day in the city. People go about their simple lives.

Sally (thinking):

Everything will be all right. Just a little further and I'll have made it!

Panel 3:

Foreground; Rear full silhouette; Sally,in a day dress, standing still, looks upwards. Back ground; Small awning reads Open Arms Apts., doorman next to glass front entrance . The apartment building fills remaining.

Caption:

What help can the peculiar woman need? And what exactly is her problem anyway?

Sally (thinking):

This is my last hope. If they can't help me...I don't know what might happen to me.

Page 2:

Panel 1:

Wide shot; Foreground; Tom Jefferson sits, relaxing on plush sofa. His expression is condescending. Mary Blake (Tom's sister) an attractive blonde,wearing a day dress, stands holding a drink down towards Tom. Background; Large window behind, city scape view. Middle class swank, bookshelves and posh chairs.

Tom:

Look sis, I don't know what all this secretive stuff is with you, but how about tellin' me what this is all about? I'm giving up a perfectly good Sunday for this.

Mary:

I didn't want to say anything earlier because it wasn't my place to. Sally should be on her way here and she'll tell you when she gets here. You should see her Tom, she's dreadful.

Panel 2:

Foreground; Mary catching Sally, who is fainting into her arms, through the open doorway of the apartment.

Mary:

Sally, oh my! Tom bring me some water quick!

Panel 3:

Wide shot; Foreground; Mary sits next to Sally on the sofa. Sally looks at her handbag in fear, griping it tightly . Mary appears worried and has a comforting hand on Sally's back. Background; Tom Jefferson, standing behind the couch, in profile, lighting a pipe.

Sally:

I started having terrifying nightmares about a month ago. I was being stalked by a menacing figure in a black robe and terrible face. I went to a psychotherapist but it hasn't helped any and now I'm seeing him when I'm not sleeping! I don't know what to do. I don't know where to turn!

Panel 4:

Mid shot; Mary standing opposite Tom. Mary taps her chin and bites her lip, looks perplexed. Tom puffs on his pipe.

Caption:

After calming Ms. Hemmings down and seeing her to bed, the Jefferson siblings conference about their childhood friend and her plight.

Mary:

We've known Sally along time Tom, and I've never seen her so terrified. Something has really got her spooked.

Tom:

Well I'm not one for believing in ghosts. I'm sure there's a perfectly rational explanation. What stuns me is I still can't believe that's the same girl I used to pull the pigtails of. She's grown into an attractive lady.

Panel 5;

Mid shot; Mary Blake poking her index finger at Tom's chest. She looks angry. Tom, flustered, holds his pipe up in front of him, sheildingly.

Mary:

You listen here Thomas Jefferson! That girl needs our help and I'll have none of your shenanigans. You here me!?

Tom:

Cut it out sis, I didn't mean anything by it.

Panel 6:

Wide shot; Mary's bedroom. Sally sitting up, staring into a steaming cup. She wears a bathrobe. Mary sitting on edge of bed looking at Sally. Tom leans against the bedroom door frame. His hands in his pockets.

Caption:

Later once, Sally awakes...

Sally:

That's the first time I've slept without seeing that loathsome face. But I still feel him lurking just beyond the shadows.

Mary:

You can stay here as long as you need to dear. I'll look out for you until we can find out what might be causing these bad dreams. Maybe you should see your Doctor again?

Panel 7:

Waist level; Tom, pounding his fist into his palm, squinting fiercely.

Tom:

Sally I'll do all I can to help! Why don't you come by the station after your appointment and I'll take you for a walk. Just to show you there's nothing to fear out there in the world.

Page 3:

Panel 1:

Foreground; Silhouette, rear view, man sitting in chair, legs crossed. Background; Sally Hemmings laying on a psychiatric couch. Her right arm raised over her eyes.

Caption:

The next day.

Sally:

I was hoping there might be some advice you might be able to offer me Doctor. Do you have any theories on where these nightmare visions might be coming from?

Doctor:

Hmmmm...

Panel 2:

Foreground; Sally, in corner profile, one hand flung forward in defense. Background: the looming cloaked figure of Doc Terror!

Doc Terror:

...I think I might my dear. I think I might indeed, hehehehehehe!

Sally:

AHHHHH!

Panel 3:

Foreground; Tom, wearing his hat and jacket, looking down at his wrist watch. Background; The front desk of the station house. The desk sergeant fills out paper work. A uniformed policeman escorts a handcuffed prisoner by.

Tom:

I wonder where she could be? Her appointment was over nearly an hour ago. Maybe I should go check on her?

Panel 4:

Mid shot; Tom in phone booth, receiver up to his ear.

Tom:

You haven't heard from her since she went to see her doctor either? Why don't you give me that address and I'll see if they know anything.

Panel 5:

Mid shot: Foreground; Tom behind the wheel of his Packard. Squinting in concentration. Background; buildings and trees blur past.

Tom (thinking):

I hope nothing terrible has happened to her!

Panel 6:

Wide shot; Foreground; Tom standing in center looking up at the background. His Packard is parked to the left of him. Background; A two story brownstone, surrounded on the left and right by high hedges.

Tom (thinking):

This is the place. Pretty cozy for a head shrinker.

Panel 7:

Mid shot; Foreground; Tom, his back to us, opening the front door of the brownstone. Back ground; The brownstone entryway. Placard next to door reads: 13 Black Pool Drive Randolph Oliver Ryan, Ph.D.. Psychoanalytical Studies and Behavioral Specialist Office Hours: by appointment.

Tom:

Yeah real, cozy.

Page 4:

Panel 1:

Mid shot; Foreground; Tom, his back to us, standing, hands in coat pocket, left of panel. Mid ground; Large oak desk top, neat stacks of paper and folders. At the desk sits a young woman wearing glasses and a business dress. She looks up at Tom Jefferson disapprovingly.

Secretary:

I'm sorry but the Doctor has no room for new patients. I can give you a referral if you would like?

Panel 2:

Mid shot; Tom, cocking his hat back, right hand on hip, jacket open, looking down slightly to the right. His expression is slightly amused.

Tom:

My heads on just fine, ma'am. I'm not here for any analysis. I'm looking for my friend. She had an appointment here earlier and I was wondering if she might have said where she was going? Her name is Sally Hemmings.

Panel 3:

Mid shot; Secretary, straightening a stack of papers by tapping it on the desk top, eyes closed, her expression is one of boredom.

Secretary:

I'm sorry sir, but I simply can't just hand out information about our clients to perfect strangers. If you are concerned about your friend perhaps you should call her at home. Good day to you.

Panel 4:

Mid shot, side view; Tom pushing open office door. Behind him the Secretary is standing raising her hands in fright.

Tom:

I'm a police detective, lady and I think I'd rather talk to the good doctor instead of you!

Secretary:

No, you can't go in there!

Panel 5:

Wide shot; 3/4 down; Tom stands in the center of an empty office room. The walls and floor are bare aside from possibly a few scraps of paper.

Tom:

What the !?

Panel 6:

Mid shot; Tom, hunched over, hat off, hair falling in front of his face, one hand covering his mouth. A gas cloud billows all around him.

Tom:

COUGH-COUGH! Should've guessed it...COUGH...13 is my unlucky number...COUGH-COUGH!

Page 5:

Panel 1:

Wide shot; Black stretches from left to right, at right side of panel gray blurry shapes, one resembling a twisted and warped human figure.

Caption;

Time passes and Tom Jefferson slowly emerges from the inky recesses of sleep.

Panel 2:

Full shot; Tom, wearing an undershirt and his trousers, sits strapped to a chair. The straps hold his arms behind his back and buckle his feet to the chair legs. His head is slumped forward, a lock of his hair dangles down.

Caption:

Still groggy from the gassing, the Daring Detective finds himself in a most uncomfortably familiar situation.

Tom:

Ugh...uh...

Panel 3:

Wide shot; On the left; Large machine generator covered with diodes, dials, levers and buttons. Wiring and piping extend from the top of the machine to the top of the panel. On the right; Black

Doc Terror (from the black):

Mr. Jefferson...

Panel 4:

On the left; The edge of the machine and wiring from panel 3. On the right; slightly obscured skull hovering 6' above the floor, in a field of black shadows.

Doc Terror:

We've simply got to stop meeting like this...

Panel 5:

On the left; the machine. On the right; Full figure of Doc Terror emerging from the shadows, cape billows forward, hands folded at mid waist.

Doc Terror:

People might become suspicious.

Panel 6:

Mid shot, side view; Foreground; Doc Terror, hands clasped in front, circles Tom. Doc Terror's robes blend into the shadowy background. Tom struggles feebly at his restraints.

Doc Terror:

Struggle all you like, Detective. You'll find my bindings quite secure.

Tom:

Ugh...huh...

Panel 7:

Close up, profile; Tom, head up, defiant, squinty- eyed, through gritted teeth, pulling forward against the restraints. Muscles bulge with energy.

Tom:

You wont get away from me this time you diabolical dissident! The whole of this city's police will be out in force looking for me!

Panel 8:

Mid shot, profile; Doc Terror hunches over a tray set atop a table. His skull face, turned to us, grinning devilishly. His right hand is holding a very sinister looking scalpel. Other wicked looking implements can be seen on the tray.

Doc Terror:

My dear Tom Jefferson, that is what I'm counting on. Though by the time they get here I doubt they'll be able to do much for you.

Page 6:

Panel 1:

Mid-shot; Foreground, center; Doc Terror, his back to us, holds up his hands as if conducting a major symphony, in his right hand is the wicked looking scalpel. Background; The weird machinery dominates the frame, wiring and piping like a wind organ extend upwards from the machine into darkness.

Doc Terror:

However, we are getting ahead of ourselves. We have much to attend to before the moment of climax arrives. You of course recognize my machine, though I have made some modifications to it since last you encountered it. By applying what I have discovered amongst the sciences of pharmacology and psychology to mechanics I have brought my Grand Experiment to its next phase!

Panel 2:

Wide shot; Foreground: Left; full figure of Doc Terror, left hand extended in a displaying motion. Right; An eight foot tall cylinder, wires and piping extend from numerous connectors on the cylinders surface towards the background, a small billowing cloud of gas seeps from its bottom. Background; The 10' high, 15' wide machine is fully visible. It resembles a giant Pipe Organ with numerous dials, buttons and levers covering it. A large Tesla coil is connected to it on the right.

Doc Terror:

Behold! The Organ of Terror! Through the use of carefully composed musical strains working in conjunction with my Gas Chamber, I can evoke in any living being their most terrifying experience, over and over again! Hehehehehe!

Panel 3:

Mid-shot, Tom, facing us, lunges forward struggling against his restraints.

Tom:

You fiend! I'll put a stop to you before you can hurt another soul! You wont get the chance to use that machine on me or anybody else, ever again!

Panel 4:

Close up; Doc Terror rubbing his hands in diabolical delight (classic cinema villain style).

Doc Terror:

Such bravado! How do you expect to stop me Tom Jefferson? With brave words and fists? Do you think I have not thought through all the contingencies before enacting my Grand Experiment? Do you even have a clue as to the truth of the things you have seen? You are shining proof of the ignorance that human-kind has become!

Panel 5:

Mid-shot; Doc Terror, facing us, stands next to the closed cylinder, gently caressing it. Gas clouds billow upwards from below.

Doc Terror:

Through your bumbling and dumb-luck you have made it this far. It was mere chance that you came upon my operations. Not from any solid deduction. The Daring Detective, Bah?! Your boasts to stop me from using my machine are pointless.

Panel 6:

Full shot; The cylinder, open to the sides, gas billows out and upward. To the left of the cylinder, shrouded in fog and shadows, Doc Terror stands menacingly. Inside the cylinder, Sally Hemmings is strapped to a vertically standing table. She is in her undergarments. Her head tilts slightly to one shoulder. Her face is void of emotion and her eyes are blank.

Doc Terror:

I have been using my Organ of Terror for some time now!

Page 7:

Panel 1:

Mid shot; Tom Jefferson lunging forward against his restraints!

Tom:

You psychopath! If you've harmed her in any way, I'll...!

Panel 2:

Mid shot; Foreground: Left; Doc Terror examining a vicious looking scalpel, head slightly tilted to the right. Background: Right; Sally Hemmings, restrained and terrified.

Doc Terror:

Come ahead then Mr. Jefferson! Show me how you are going to stop me from doing exactly has I have planned.

Panel 3:

Full shot; Tom standing up. His restraints are limp though still encumbering. The chair on which the restraints were is exploding in splinters! His fist clenched! Tom's visage is one of squinty eyed justice!

Caption:

And so Tom Jefferson, the Daring Detective does only what any person can do when faced with menacing terror! He stands up to face it!

Panel 4:

Wide shot; Foreground: Left; Doc Terror stumbles backwards, enshrouded in fog, towards his machine. His right hand is thrown up in defense. Center; Tom Jefferson, fists cocked for a punch, bursts through billowing gas clouds towards Doc Terror! Background: Right; Fog billows out of the open cylinder. Sally Hemmings, restrained, looks on in horror!

Caption;

And rushes forward to combat it!

Panel 5:

Mid shot; Foreground: Center; Doc Terror falling backwards into his machine. Background: The Organ of Terror; sparking and dangling wires.

Doc Terror:

My own hubris is to blame! I should have just killed you and now I will suffer...

Panel 6:

Full shot; Foreground: Center; Doc Terror electrocuted! His arms thrown wide. Electricity surrounds and shreds his cloak and face. Smoke pours from his burning body. Background: Left & Right; dangling, sparking wires descending form top of panel.

Doc Terror:

YEAAARRRGGHHH!

Page 8:

Panel 1:

Mid shot; Foreground: Center & Left; Tom Jefferson holds a frightened Sally Hemmings in his arms. Both appear visibly shaken from the events that have transpired. Background: Right; The charred remains of Doc Terror and shadow.

Tom:

You're safe now Sally. That's the last we've seen of that maniac.

Sally:

Oh Tom! Thank goodness!

Panel 2:

Mid shot: Left; Mary Blake, dressed in an evening robe. Her expression relieved. Right; Tom, in a double breasted suit, holds a glass in his right hand. His expression dour.

Caption:

Upon informing the station house of the whereabouts of Doc Terror, Tom Jefferson returns to his sister, Mary Blake's apartment with Sally Hemmings.

Mary:

Thank the stars he didn't have a gun Tom! Heaven knows what you would've done then? I'm glad that's the end of it though. You do scare me so with your antics.

Tom:

It's not over quite yet sis. Though the man is dead, his "plan", whatever that may have been, might still come off. I've got to put the pieces together, and fast!

Panel 3:

Mid shot; Tom sits at his desk, hat cocked back, coat off, rummaging through files of papers. His desk is stacked with and surrounded by files.

Caption:

Back at the station house, Tom carefully reviews some of his old cases.

Tom:

There's gotta be a connection here I'm just not seeing.

Panel 4:

Full shot; Foreground: Center; Tom, in coat and hat, pounds his right hand into his left palm. His eyes squinty revelation. Background: The shadowy city docks. Shimmering water beyond.

Caption:

Even visiting a former 'scene of the crime' to try and gain a fresh perspective. Until...

Tom:

That's it! I've figured it out! I've got to get back to headquarters and tell the Lieutenant!

Panel 5:

Mid shot; Left; Tom, standing, leant forward, coat off, hat cocked, shirt sleeves up, knuckles on desk. Center; Lt. Rick Reynolds desk, stacks of paper and office paraphernalia. Right; Lt. Rick Reynolds, sitting, leant forward, puffing a cigar. Both look attentive to the other.

Tom:

His plan had been to contaminate the water with that powder he developed from his gas and then through hypnotic music, terrorize the entire populace of this city, perhaps the nation!

Rick:

What kind of sick mind would even contemplate such a horrifying concept?

Panel 6:

Close up; The shining, squinty eyed grin of Tom Jefferson.

Tom:

What really matters is that we've put an end to his mad scheme. I can't imagine the kind of world this would be if everyone lived in fear of such terrorists?

THE END.


End file.
